Careful What You Think
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: Fergus MacLeod has never like Soulmarks. Annoying, tacky things, he'll sniff at anyone who mentions them. How on earth are you supposed to know who thought at you for goodness sake, he'll sass rolling his eyes. His opinion on Marks is, of course, in no way, shape or form because of his own.
1. Wistful Thinking

**AN: While Crowley meets Sam at a young age nothing happens! At least until later chapters.**

* * *

Fergus MacLeod has never like Soulmarks. _Annoying, tacky things,_ he'll sniff at anyone who mentions them. _How on earth are you supposed to know who_ _ **thought**_ _at you for goodness sake,_ he'll sass rolling his eyes. His opinion on Marks is, of course, in no way, shape or form because of his own. He has no problem- none at _all_ \- with the messy handwriting on his tailbone- of all places!- that proclaims he talks funny. Clearly, his Soulmate is a Yank.

They say that you get your Soulmark the moment your Soulmate thinks it. Crowley- as he prefers to be called- is twenty-six and looking for his son, Gavin- the product of a friends-with-benefits relationship- when a tingling sensation tickles across his tailbone. Thinking it's one of the parents stuck in the same greasy hell as him is getting frisky, he straightens to his full height- not that it's too much taller than some of the mothers- and turns around. A polite and cutting response is on the tip of his tongue to fend them off, only there isn't anyone there. So he pushes it to the back of his mind and stares at the monstrosity in front of him. Of course, his demon of a sprog is in the bloody ball pit. And because Gavin is the pure evil that comes from switching houses every week he refuses to leave the thing when called. It's almost embarrassing, _almost_ , thank god Gavin isn't yelling at the top of his lungs like some of their lungs like some of the other children. One of the children in the pit gets called and unlike Gavin and the others, the kid starts moving.

 _God, why can't Gavin be as well behaved as you,_ Crowley thinks watching the boy run to his father. It takes ten minutes to get his sprog out of the infernal pit of plastic balls covered in germs, and five minutes to wade through the ocean of screaming kids and damned parents to get to the exit and therefore freedom. Cool air hits his face and he swears that he will never step foot into _Chuck's Cheesy Chalice_ ever again. His resolve lasts until Gavin comes home from his mother's and is full of restless energy but that is neither here nor there. What matters is that the tingling sensation and the well-behaved child is pushed out of his mind. In fact, he remains clueless that he has a Mark for a month in a half.

It's during one of his scheduled meet ups with Gavin's mother, Naomi Angelo with whom he has a type of frenemies-with-benefits thing going on, that the Mark is noticed. The high pitched noises that she makes as she tosses things at him once she catches sight of it ring in his ears far more than the dreaded phrase. _He talks funny._ What kind of first thought is that!? Bloody Yanks!

Years pass, rather lonely years as most of the American population seems to think that you can't have sex with anyone who is not your Soulmate once you've gotten your Mark, and while Crowley doesn't hate his Mark in particular he does in fact hate them. He hates the nebulousness of them. And then he meets a young man, who is ironically twenty-six, at a coffee shop. There on his right arm, right above his hand is the phrase he thought at a young child so long ago. _Bloody hell._


	2. A Chance Meeting

Sam Winchester loves Soulmarks. His parents were matched Mates, his brother Dean delights in telling him. Even grumpy, old uncle Bobby has a Mark that makes him smile. To Sam, it doesn't matter that he won't know _who_ thinks at him, just that someone _will_. That there is someone who will understand him more than anyone else in the world will. Someone who will love him forever. That somewhere out there, there is a person who will be the only home he will never want to leave. Thinking that way, naively some will say, is the only way to stave off the twisting, turning, burning feelings that come, that settle whenever they move.

He's ten years old when his Mark comes in. A tickling sensation that travels up his arm and makes him laugh. His dad sees the writing work itself on his skin and when they get back to the hotel they are staying in- they don't get homes anymore, not since mom died in a fire- dad tells him the story of how he met mom. Sam listens, entrapped by how alive his dad looks. Hands gesturing and smiling as the story unfolds.

"I bumped into her Sam, and the moment I thought 'Holy crap, she's beautiful,' it appeared on her shoulder. She was wearing a tank top and the ugliest pair of plaid shorts I've ever seen but her eyes Sammy, her eyes were stunning. And then she starts blushing and laughing as my shoulder- the opposite of her's- is tingling. I look and it says ' I wonder if his hair is as soft as it looks,' and I start laughing."

The story trails off and Sam watches as his dad goes quiet. It's not the good quiet either. It's the dark quiet where his dad gets sad and angry at the world. It's the quiet that usually ends with Dean reading books to him out loud to try and cover up the crying.

"Losing your Soulmate is horrible Sammy. Sometimes it's best not to know them."

His dad is looking at his Mark, at the words written in elegant script.

"And something tells me I won't like your Mate."

łIt doesn't surprise him when they leave Stanford the next day. Doesn't surprise him that they go far away. Sammy hates it though and cries for two states, nothing can make him happy. Dean doesn't understand why this move is harder than the other ones but then Dean doesn't have his Mark.

* * *

"Don't hate dad."

"I don't. I love him… I just wish we would stay somewhere Dean. I… Want to be normal."

"Where's the fun in that? Come on, we get to see more of the country than most."

"Yeah."

* * *

When he turns eighteen he moves back to Stanford. Part of him hopes that his Soulmate is still there, another part doubts it. They aren't the reason why he came back, not entirely. Stanford has a great Law program, one that he got a scholarship too. Dad understood, for once, he didn't try to control what went on. He just smiled a tight lip smile and nodded when Sam stated that he was leaving. Dean had left a few years before, moved back to Sioux Falls with uncle Bobby to work part time as a mechanic and also volunteer as a firefighter.

* * *

" _I want to be a lawyer."_

" _You'll be a great one, Sam."_

" _I ha- what?"_

" _You're a grown man Sam. I can't keep dragging you along, searching for odd jobs. You and me, we may be a lot alike but we have one big difference."_

" _What's that dad?"_

" _You've got your life ahead of you."_

" _Dad-"_

" _No Sam, you do. You're eighteen, you've got your Soulmate out there somewhere. I know I haven't been the best dad but- I remember where you got your Mark. You search for them, you hear me? And you spend as much time with them as you can."_

* * *

While getting a bachelor degree can take as little as two and a half years to complete he decides to go slow and stretch it out to four. During this time he works part time in a coffee shop and rubbing elbows with the professors. He meets Jess. She's beautiful and perfect in every way except that she isn't his Soulmate. They still date for two years but it feels wrong, even to Jess. The breakup, when it happens, is pleasant. There is no screaming or cursing. No yelling or proclamations of hate. And blissfully no thrown objects. Jess asks him later why he thinks there would be and he tells her stories of the misadventures of Dean's dating.

He's twenty-six and recovering from last year of Law school when it happens. He no longer works at the coffee house but sometimes he pops in to say hello to the owner- Gabriel- when _he_ walks in. The man isn't someone most would notice. Decent height, a little round but it's the eyes that draw Sam in. Head on they look brown but when the man turns his head and the light strikes them they change color. Gabriel clears his throat and when he has Sam's eyes on him he raises an eyebrow. Sam rolls his eyes and pushes the shorter man back.

"Just make my coffee would you?" he snarks. Feeling someone stare at him Sam looks around and spots the man from before staring at his Mark. Normally Sam has no problem letting people see it. It shows the world that he has someone somewhere. But there is something in the way the stranger is staring that makes Sam feel odd- what's worse is he doesn't know if it's a bad odd or a good odd. Pushing it out of his mind he takes the coffee Gabriel slides to him and heads to the door. The man moves aside looking everywhere but him. _Wierd._


	3. Coffee Shop Debates

_I need new friends_ , Crowley thinks as he watches his friend- Cain- hold onto his stomach with one hand and the table with the other laughing his head off.

"Oh, this is too good. Now are you sure the boy is your Soulmate?"

"I hardly see how it's funny. And rather sure yes."

Cain straightens up, still laughing but looking more serious.

"You never know, maybe some other poor sap has a hellion named Gavin or, or-" Cain putters off into more laughter, "Maybe they were thinking of their sub!"

Crowley rolls his eyes.

"How on earth, did I become friends with you again?" he asks the air, fighting the urge to hit his friend.

"I'm the only one who wasn't fooled by that prickly front you put on."

Crowley's arm stretches out and he smacks Cain.

"Boys behave," Colette- his friend's Mate- scolds them gently from her place at the stove. She expertly flips pancakes onto her plate and walks over to the table; with her looking at him Crowley squirms like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Did you at least talk to the boy?" she asks before slapping Cain's hand away from her breakfast.

"No…"

"So you stared at him like a creepy old man?" Cain asks between hiccups of laughter.

Colette glares him down while Crowley covers his face. He had stared at the boy like a creepy old man. Not that he was _old,_ he's only forty-two for goodness sake, but the staring probably didn't help his case. Not that there _was_ a case. He couldn't even keep up a good relationship with his son how can he expect to connect with the other.

"Darling, he's your Soulmate. Even if you two don't end up in love, you will be the best of friends. Platonic Soulmates exist, you know that," Colette says softly. Even Cain has dropped his playful smirk. They are both too good at reading him.

"Yeah. You just need to talk to him. Give me some reasons why you shouldn't at least do that," Cain demands, crossing his arms.

"I stared at him like a creeper the first time I saw him again," Crowley says lifting up a finger, "The age difference won't help me. I have no clue what his name is, which leads into the next point of I have no clue how to get a hold of him."

"Friendship has no age limit. And just haunt the coffee shop."

"Oh yes," Crowley drawls, "that won't make me look like a stalker at all."

* * *

Crowley sighs as he sits at a booth in the far corner of the building. How he allowed Colette talk him into this venture, he hasn't a clue. It's been a week since he ran into the boy- man, he really should refer to him as an adult- with what he believes to be his Mark, here in the coffee shop. _Little Sips of Heaven_ is a quaint place ran primarily by what appears to be college students. The short barista from a week ago is behind the counter again, flirting with a customer. Crowley huffs a laugh and shakes his head, _youth._ He's alone with his simple cup of tea to keep him company while he pretends to read something Cain shoved into his hands. No doubt something Cain figured would make the inner critic in him shudder.

The words in the book are long and pretentious, in Crowley's humble opinion. Like a scholar was tossed into the deep end and began grasping at any big words that would make him seem credible. The few pages Crowley has read are as incoherent as Gavin's rants when he was a sugar high little boy.

" _Soulmarks And How They Are Inherently Abusive_?"

Crowley jumps at the unexpected voice and scowls at the book in his hands. The title of it had escaped his notice and now he wishes that he had covered it.

"Yes. A friend gave it to me. Probably hoped it would make me laugh," he grouses before looking up. The breath he was about to take sticks in his throat at the sight of hazel eyes staring at him curiously. It's the b-man! The one with floppy brown hair and soft looking face.

"It's an interesting take but I prefer _Understanding Marks And How Societal Expectations And Media Have Twisted Their Meaning_ by Castiel Novak."

Crowley grins.

"I will have to try that book out then. As it is this one is boring me to tears with its circular narrative and constant use of three-syllable-or-more words. You can sit if you wish," he says gesturing to the other side of his booth. The puppy- _moose_ \- with his great height is holding a newspaper and a steaming cup of something in his hands.

"Oh. Thank you. I'm Sam by the way."

"Fergus, though I would appreciate if you called me Crowley."

Sam slides into the booth, placing down his paper on the table and Crowley can't help but to glance down at the arm he saw the Mark on. Only today the arm is bare. He tries not to dwell on that too hard and instead focuses on the fact that Sam is handsome and sitting right across from him. It's wondrous and Crowley could kiss Cain for giving him the book.

"So why did your friend give you that book?"

"There are a few reasons. One being that while I am not the biggest fan of Marks I find people who scream the extreme spectrum that they take away our free will humorous. Another is that he often finds the most pretentious books to read and then expects me to suffer through them as well."

Crowley doesn't preen at the fact he got Sam to laugh, he doesn't. Why would he? He doesn't know Sam well enough to preen about getting him to laugh, for all Crowley knows the man laughs all the time. The two of them lightly debate the merits of Marks. Sam is for them, and his passion for them makes his whole face light up. They are so into their debate they don't notice the crowd around them or their empty cups. It's only when the barista clears his throat and raises an eyebrow- almost judgingly- that they notice anything.

"While that was fun to watch, it's time to close shop."

"Sorry Gabe."

Gabe waves off Sam's apology. Sam turns to Crowley.

"It was a pleasure debating with you," he says and at that Crowley does preen. Before he got into the literary agent business he considered being a lawyer just so he could argue with people. He never pursued it and he wonders if maybe that would have changed things with Gavin. Those years apart when he went to New York were hard. He mentally shakes himself and stands, hand outstretched.

"The pleasure was mine. Would it be too forward of me to ask to meet again?"

"Not at all. Wednesday maybe?"

"Wonderful."

This time, when he leaves _Little Sips of Heaven_ he doesn't slink off with his tail between his legs. In fact, he's fairly sure he struts out. He has a date with Sam... Though is it really a date? With a decisive nod, he decides it doesn't matter and makes a mental note to swing by the library so that he can pick up the book Sam suggested.


	4. Dreams In The Aftermath

**AN: There is smut in this chapter.**

* * *

" _Well did you see him?"_ Colette asks as soon as soon as Crowley answers the phone. He sighs softly.

"Hello to you too darling."

" _Don't keep me waiting, Fergus. I had to promise Cain bacon for dinner to get to call you!"_

"Oh, the horror of having bacon for dinner!"

" _Fergus!"_

Crowley huffs a laugh.

"Yes, I saw him again. We had a riveting debate over Soulmarks."

" _Oh, Crowley, you didn't…"_

"I did. It's all thanks to the sham of a book Cain gave me. Now I have a… meeting with him again in two days."

The loud squeeing noise Colette lets out has Crowley pulling his phone away from his ear. He glares at it, though his lips twitch at her happiness for his _possible_ happiness. Scuffling happens and he hears Cain's low tones before Cain actually speaks to him.

" _What did you do to my wife?"_

"I told her I saw Sam again."

"Sam?"

"That's _his_ name."

Again he has to pull his phone away from his ear as Cain swears.

"Nice! You going-"

"Yes. Now more importantly, do you have a copy of _Understanding Marks And How Societal Expectations And Media Have Twisted Their Meaning_?" he cuts Cain off. Cain grumbles under his breath but Crowley can hear him moving about. It takes some time but soon Cain is talking again.

" _I do indeed… Should I expect you dropping in on us tomorrow?"_

"If you two don't mind me dropping in for a cuppa."

" _Colette would kill me if I turned you away."_

Crowley laughs at the whipped tone in Cain's voice and the two soon say their goodbyes. It's only seven o'clock and his stomach decides to speak up and remind him that it's time to eat. A world class chef he is not but he can make a mean box meal. Fattening and completely American, it's filling and easy to cook.

His want to eat withers a bit when he spots a bright blue post-it note reminding him that Gavin will be coming over on Friday. He loves his son, but the bloody boy is a menace who seems to relish in making Crowley's life miserable. Be it by getting in trouble with the law or backing talking and being a general pain in Crowley's rear. On one memorable occasion, Gavin took a date of his to the publishing house Crowley works at, broke in and fornicated on his father's desk. The point of that exercise Crowley hasn't a clue other than the fact he had to explain to his boss why he didn't think charges should be pressed. Though the sheer cheekiness of the act would have made Crowley proud of his sprog, if it hadn't been caught on camera.

With a shake, Crowley pulls himself from his thoughts on his son and goes about cooking his meal. It's soothing following the instructions on the box and he wonders when his life went tits up with his son. While he wasn't the most attentive father Gavin had liked him well enough until he turned thirteen. Then something happened and daddy went from hanging the stars to cleaning the toilet and Gavin's mother became his hero. He sighs tiredly and pulls the pot off the stove. Instead of thinking about his son he thinks about Sam, about how the man's Mark disappeared. It was most likely covered with makeup. Crowley cringes as he remembers how he stared at the Mark. It had probably made the younger man uncomfortable and Crowley is surprised that Sam gave him a second chance. Dinner is a lonely affair and he goes to bed shortly after the dishes are done.

* * *

 _The lighting in the room is low but it doesn't stop him from recognizing it as his own. It's the person on the bed that gives Crowley pause. It's Sam in all his tall, lanky glory and he's as naked as a newborn babe. There is chocolate sauce and strawberries on his bedside table._

" _Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to join me?" Sam asks his arm reaches out and Crowley watches in fascination as the younger man dips his finger into the chocolate. It's arousing in the best way and Crowley stumbles to the bed._

" _You're here," he breathes and Sam laughs, brown eyes large and dark. Sam leans into him, nibbling at his neck._

" _Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"_

 _Crowley doesn't answer that. He kisses Sam desperately, hungrily and Sam kisses him back. Clothes are shed, quickly and without care. Crowley lets his fingers dig into Sam's hair. Chocolate is poured and licked and bodies grind together in tempo with fastly beating hearts. There is no penetration but Crowley wouldn't change it for anything. It's more intimate than any sex he has ever had. They rest curled together and feed each other strawberries from the bowl, exchanging kisses._

" _Next time I'll bring lube," Sam promises before grabbing what is left of the chocolate and he crawls down the bed and settles in between Crowley's legs. By now chocolate is cold and the older man jumps as it is poured on his stomach and prick. Sam begins licking the sauce off of him. A moan builds in his chest and explodes when a hot heat engulfs him. His back arches and he claws at the bed beneath him._

* * *

Crowley blinks awake and groans at the stickiness coating his pant legs.

"Oh bloody hell," he mutters covering his face. Hopefully, he isn't entering a second puberty.


	5. A Call Before Coffee

Sam hangs up his cellphone and looks at it. Hope, joy, and determination are coursing through his veins, it will keep him in a good mood for a week. Even if the not-date later today turns out to be a dud. He bites his lip to keep from shouting his joy at getting a job. Johnson & Johnson & Angelo want him to be an associate starting next Monday. He does a little jig and twirls his phone around considering calling his big brother the news. If it's eight here in Stanford than it should be ten in Sioux Falls.

He's about to dial up his brother when his phone begins to ring.

"Hello?" he answers it without looking at the caller ID.

 _"Heya, Sammy."_

Sam blinks at the unexpected voice of his father.

"Hey dad, is everything okay?"

If there is more worry than most people would have for talking to their father they both ignore it.

 _"Yeah, I'm just visiting your brother. The kids have gotten big since the last time I was here. Anyways, I thought that since I could bum your brother's home phone I should give you a call. How are you and... Jess doing?"_

"I haven't been with Jess for a few years dad. I think you are thinking of Meg- who I was crushing on before I realized she was already engaged- Castiel- Meg's fiance- or Ruby," Sam says wincing at his own dating/crush history.

 _"Damn. Sorry son. How is Ruby?"_

"It's fine dad. And she seems happy, we aren't together anymore," and he means it when he says it's fine. He and his dad have never had the best relationship and he also knows how his dad is with phones which makes staying in contact hard.

"How's Adam?" he asks changing subjects.

 _"He's... He's good. Here with me in fact."_

Both try to ignore how stilted the conversation has gotten. John clears his throat.

 _"Anything big going on with you?_ " he asks and Sam smiles.

"Yeah. Something real big. Just got hired on at a law firm. They want me in next Monday."

 _"That's great! God, I'm so proud of you Sammy."_

Sam has to pull his phone away from his ear as his dad yells the news to his brothers. He hears the phone switch hands.

 _"You got a job now Sammy?"_ the voice of his older brother comes through the phone.

"Yeah, Cas and Meg slipped Lucifer my transcripts and apparently he fell in love," he says with a laugh.

 _"Hell yeah!"_ The pride in Dean's voice causes his heart to swell.

 _"My little brothers kick butt!"_ Dean crows and Sam laughs even harder, _"One is a lawyer and the other is gonna be a doctor!"_

"You're not too bad yourself Dean."

Dean scoffs.

 _"Anyways, how's your love life? Found your Mark yet?"_

Again Sam has to hold his phone away from his ear as his brother and father fight over who gets to talk to him. It gives him a chance to think over what he plans to say. And while he thinks he starts to make himself some breakfast.

 _"Well?"_ Dean asks, sounding out of breath from escaping their father.

"I haven't. But I did meet someone."

He bites back a chuckle when he hears Dean make a lot of noise to signify that he's sitting down.

" _Don't make me beg little brother."_

"His name is Fergus."

" _He's not engaged is he?"_

"No. And that wasn't my fault, neither of them wear their ring on their finger and their Marks aren't visible… And neither is Crowley's."

" _That isn't good."_

"It could be. I mean, he could not have a Mark at all. He stared at my Mark, though. We had a debate about them on Monday and we have a meeting today too."

" _You go, lil bro. I hope it works out for you."_

"I do too. How about you? How are you?"

" _I'm… We're… Okay. To tell the truth, Sam, I'm glad as hell that Dad and Adam are here. Ben smiled today before he left for school."_

"That's good to hear. If you need me," Sam starts.

" _You will stay right there, you hear me? You just got a job, you don't need to come riding in on a white horse to help me."_

"Dean-"

" _Sammy, I mean it."_

"Fine, jerk."

" _Bitch."_

They talk for a bit longer and he gets passed back to dad before he is given to Adam. When he hangs up the phone he feels both happy and drained, it's easy to forget just how… active his family can be. He shakes his head and finishes his food. It's mid-bite that he realizes that they never said what time to meet.

"Well, shit," he mutters. To play it safe, he decides to show up an hour earlier than when he first ran into Crowley at the Cafe. Waiting until that time is killer, he feels like he did right before he told his dad he was leaving for college. His hands are sweaty and his heart is beating quickly. _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks despondently, _we've met twice!_ The second meeting was perfect though. So few people enjoyed sitting and debating much of anything with him since he is a lawyer but Crowley matched his logical arguments with logic wrapped in sass. He had valid points instead of wild vague motions and while some of his points were more emotional than logical Crowley never made it like he looked down at Sam for being a fan of Marks.

* * *

"There's my favorite customer of all time!" Gabriel calls out from his place behind the counter. Sam rolls his eyes affectionately at the shorter male.

"And there is my least favorite barista," he replies. Gabe pouts at him.

"Is that any way to talk to the man who gives you half off your coffee purchases and didn't tell his little brother about all the shenanigans you and his wife get up to when you had an off day?" the older man asks when Sam finally reaches the counter. Playfully Sam clutches his heart.

"You would use mine and Meg's people watching against me?"

"Damn straight I would. I'm the black sheep of the family, have to figure out a way to curry favor don't I? And speaking of currying favor," Gabe wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, "What is up with you and that guy, Crowley was it?"

"Nothing yet," Sam mutters, pulling out his wallet to pay. He doesn't even have to tell Gabe what he wants anymore because he's gotten the same thing for as long as he has been coming to _Little Sips of Heaven._

"Is that why you're covering up your Mark? Don't want to scare him away?"

Sam bites his lip and wonders how to answer that. It was a reflexive thing he had done. After that first meeting, it felt like everyone was staring at his Mark. A paranoid notion maybe but one that he fixed by putting a little of the foundation that Ruby left behind. Why he kept doing it afterward is another story and a question he doesn't have the answer for. The door into the shop opens, the cheery bells at the top tinkling soothingly.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Gabe whispers with a head shake knowing he won't be getting an answer from Sam but he gives his friend a look that clearly says 'this isn't over' which is ignored. Sam turns around, happily and maybe just a bit sheepishly greets Crowley.

"It appears great minds," Crowley says- Sam doesn't get just a bit lost in that accent- tilting his head, "A dreadful oversight on my part not to makes sure we had the time down."

Sam waves that off and once Crowley has his coffee they go over to a booth to sit down. He nods at the book in Crowley's hands.

"How did you like it?"

"What I've been able to read it's been very interesting. The language was blunt and to the point without being insulting or dimwitted. The author brings up many valid problems with the media representation of Marks. Not bad for a Mark sympathizer," the man winks playfully to show he doesn't mean harm with the last statement.

"Yeah, Castiel spent years researching various medias to make sure he covered all the basics."

Crowley's eyes widen.

"You know the author?"

"He's married to my friend and once-upon-a-time Ethics teacher. Castiel is a cool guy. A bit literal and has zero understanding of personal space but he's a great match for Meg," Sam says. He doesn't know it but his face softens as he talks about his friends and a small smile spreads. It takes Crowley's breath away. Sam shakes his head and they get back to talking, though they don't just talk about the book. They talk about small things.

" _Favorite music? Anything that isn't blasted at the loudest volume."_

" _The Rocky Horror Picture show wasn't that great."_

" _You take that back!"_

" _Never."_

They talk about big things.

" _I have two brothers. One is actually a half brother but he's blood."_

" _My mother was a hippy and it is very possible there are many people running around with her blood flowing through her veins."_

Sam loves it. And if maybe he thinks about a possible future where he and Crowley exchange numbers and call each other often. Maybe even exchange flirtatious words, well that's okay. He can see himself and Crowley being at least friends, the older man has enough sarcasm and wit to keep up with Meg on her bad days. The way Crowley moves his hands while he talks is distracting in the best way.

At some point Gabe comes by with snacks- on the house or on his tab, if he even has one, Sam isn't sure. It's easy talking to Crowley, and Sam just lets it rush over him. Only the nice, neat little bubble around them is shattered by a loud ringing. It's Crowley's phone and Sam watches as the other man answers it. Watches as Crowley's faces whitens and turns ashen before he hangs up.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short. That was the A&E… My son was just in a car wreck… Would it… Can we… Next week? Same time and day?" Crowley asks worriedly his hands twitching.

"Of course! Of course, I hope he's okay."

It shouldn't shock Sam as much as it does that Crowley has a child. You don't have to be Marks to have children. All it takes is a look at Dean to know that. Emma's- Dean's youngest but only biological child- is proof as Lydia was in no way Dean's Mark. He swallows helplessly as Crowley stands up to leave.

"Would you like my number just in case something comes up and you can't make it?"

Crowley gives a weak smile.

"That would be marvelous."

They exchange numbers and Sam watches him leave. There is a whistle him as soon as the door closes.

"Damn, hate to see them leave but love to watch them go."

Without looking Sam reaches behind his back and smacks Gabe.


	6. An Interlude

**AN: Look here an interlude! Enjoy some Dean action while I figure out how to write Crowley dealing with Gavin.**

* * *

Dean holds the official looking envelope with shaking hands. _There was always a chance that this could happen_ , Dean thinks. Lisa's sister, Riley, warned him that the man her sister was seeing before him was making a fuss. That Elijah wasn't happy that another man was going to be raising _his_ son. The man who delivered the letter is long gone but Dean can still feel his eyes on him. Like a band-aid, he tears open the envelope and scans the documents inside. Even from the quick scan, the legal speak has his head spinning and he almost mistakes his cellphone ringing for his ears ringing. Dazedly he answers it.

"Woah, Sam calm down and talk in a decibel I can actually hear," Dean says holding the phone away from his ear. He feels special getting to talk to his brother twice in one day but Sam could not have picked a worse time.

 _"He has a kid,"_ Sam says in a much calmer tone but there is still a hint panic in his voice.

"Who has a kid?"

 _"Crowley!"_

Dean looks down at the papers he really should be attempting to read, what with their legal speak and life ruining potential. But there is a desperate edge to Sam's voice that brings out Dean's big brother side. He takes a deep breath and shoves away from his dining room table. He has this innate need to protect, or at least that is what he has been told and his brothers bring that out nearly as quick as his children.

"Is that a bad thing? A deal breaker?" Dean presses trying to figure out the best way to calm Sam down. He paces slightly, phone resting between his ear and shoulder, the papers left on the table.

Sam doesn't talk for awhile and Dean lets him gather his thoughts. Doing the breathing technique Lisa taught him before she died. In through the nose, hold for five seconds, out through the mouth, rinse and repeat. And feeling accomplished when Sam copies it.

 _"It's not, at least not for me. But I don't know how old they are, and what if they don't like me?"_

"Have you met them yet?"

It's hard to believe that he has because as far as Dean knows today was the first date. Seems a bit early for a person to be introducing children, even if said child is older. But then this is Sam, no mortal man can withstand his puppy dog eyes.

 _"No. But they were in a car accident so I feel we may meet sooner rather than later."_

"Sam buddy listen to me, cross that bridge when you get there. Don't ruin shit by overthinking things and making a complicated mess out of a molehill."

 _"Yeah... okay... you're right. When did you get so smart?"_

"Damn straight I'm right. And I've always been smart, bitch."

 _"Jerk."_

"Feeling better?"

 _"Yeah. Thanks, Dean."_

"No need for thanks, baby bro. Now, I hate to cut this chick flick short but I have shit I need to do."

 _"Shit, sorry. I'll let you get to it then. Talk to you later."_

"Bye Sammy."

Hanging up the phone, Dean turns back to his dining room table. The papers are still there, so innocent looking. Like they aren't threatening to tear his whole world apart. With shaking hands he sits down and picks them back up. Lisa's ex-boyfriend is trying to contest his right to be Ben's guardian. He has to go in to take a paternity test since it's only Lisa's word that Elijah is Ben's father instead of him. Not that Elijah has wanted anything to do with Ben for ten years. The man denied every invite to every party, refused to join up for family get together's, anything to get the two to interact because Lisa wanted them to know each other.

And now that Lisa's gone all of a sudden the dick wants 'his' kid. Ben doesn't know him and Elijah doesn't know Ben. Dean rubs his eyes tiredly, even with Lisa's will stating her wish for Dean to have custody of Ben should she ever die and the fact that he married Lisa when Ben was six he could lose his little boy. He takes a deep shuddering breath, he hasn't feared that since he and Lisa hit a rough patch when Ben was two. The period that brought Emma into their lives. Why Elijah couldn't be like Lydia and sign away any rights he may have is beyond Dean. The worst thing is, if Elijah drags it out he may not have the money to fight. Not unless he sells some things, maybe get a second mortgage on the house. It turns his stomach but if worse comes to worse Baby, his 1967 Chevy Impala, could fetch a good amount of money. The mere thought makes Dean want to cry and rage but he will do anything to keep Ben.

The sound of the door opening has Dean folding up the paper and forcing a smile on to his face. Adam takes one at Dean and raises an eyebrow. The youngest Winchester sidles up to his big brother.

"I know that look. That's your 'I found out something bad and don't want to tell' look. Like that time Sam's dog got hit by a car," the nineteen-year-old Nursing student says.

"Is not!"

Dean's cell chimes with a text cutting Adam off from whatever he was about to say about Dean's denial. The oldest brother laughs.

"Oh, our brother has it bad," Dean tells Adam as he types out the message.

To Dean: _It's not too soon to text him is it? Maybe see if his kids okay?_

To Sammy: _Don't be a pussy, take annotative little brother. Unless he just took two steps it's never too early to send a text. Hell, it may make his day._

To Dean: _Jerk_

To Sammy: _Bitch_

Adam crosses his arms.

"Don't think we won't be talking about this. When you hide things you end up hurt. I've heard the stories."

Dean waves his hand distractedly.

"I am not hiding things. Geesh you're as suspicious Sam. Scat before I start drilling you about things."


End file.
